When it came time for the fire, he shooed her toward a flat, mossy rock, fussing over the placement of her cloak to make sure she was perfectly positioned away from the smoke.
He knelt in the dirt, carefully stacking the dry, non toxic wood he'd gathered, shielding the spark with his own body so the wind wouldn't bother her. He worked with a singular devotion, refusing to let her break a sweat, as if by keeping her clean and comfortable, he could somehow insulate her from the dangers that had nearly cost them everything earlier.
Once the flames caught, casting a warm, steady glow against the encroaching purple gloom of the forest, Johnn sat back on his heels, his face smeared with a bit of soot, looking at her with a satisfied, relieved grin.
"There," he said, wiping his hands on his trousers. "All set. Safe and sound. You just relax, Partner. I've got everything under control."
